


marriage of (in)convenience

by villiageidiot



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood Loves Magnus Bane, Alternate Universe - Crack, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Boys In Love, Clary Fray & Alec Lightwood Friendship, Crack, Fluff and Crack, Girls in Love, Good Parent Maryse Lightwood, Modern Royalty, Salty Alec Lightwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29841129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/villiageidiot/pseuds/villiageidiot
Summary: “I just don’t see the big deal, man,” Jace says, shrugging. “Give me one reason you think this is a bad idea.”Alec gives him a skeptical look. “Why an arranged marriage is a bad idea? Well, for starters, I’m in love with Magnus.”Jace frowns, “Well, yeah, but aside from that.”“Uh, because mybetrothedis in love with my sister?”Jace rolls his eyes, “Yeah, but aside fromthat.”
Relationships: Clary Fray & Alec Lightwood, Clary Fray/Isabelle Lightwood, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 40
Kudos: 126
Collections: Shadowhunters Fic Crawl 2021





	marriage of (in)convenience

**Author's Note:**

> Very, very loosely based on this prompt:  
>  _All the servants in the palace of Idris are busy with Prince Alexander and neighboring kingdom's Princess Clarissa's wedding.  
>  And there is an unspoken rule: if you see the Prince kissing the Royal Mage or the Princess kissing the Royal Fiancé, no you didn't.  
> AU, where Clalec broTP decide to exploit their parents' scheme and treat each other as advisors/killing buddies while maintaining their own relationships.  
> (The wedding can be stopped and the ships happily married later if the author wishes, or it can go through and it's just crack)_

“I just don’t see the big deal, man,” Jace says, shrugging. “Give me one reason you think this is a bad idea.”

Alec gives him a skeptical look. “Why an arranged marriage is a bad idea? Well, for starters, I’m in love with Magnus.”

Jace frowns, “Well, yeah, but aside from that.”

“Uh, because my _betrothed_ is in love with my sister?”

Jace rolls his eyes, “Yeah, but aside from _that_.”

Alec shakes his head, annoyed. “I’m not—just get out,” he demands, pointing to the door.

Jace shrugs again, and Alec watches him leave. He’s left alone in the middle of the ballroom, and he sits on the floor, pulling his knees into his chest and pressing his back against the wall. He’s so fucked. 

He never asked for this. There’s almost nothing he likes about being royalty. The parties are exhausting, his responsibilities are tedious, and the lacrosse lessons are endless. The only good thing that has come out of this is Magnus. Alec had been such an isolated, lonely teenager, and when the royal clothier died, Magnus was hired, flipping Alec’s entire world upside down. 

And then Alec fell in love.

And then his life began.

The giant ballroom doors suddenly close, and Alec looks up to see Magnus. He’s just irresponsibly beautiful and probably has no idea the things a royal prince would do for him.

“Hello, your majesty,” Magnus says with a teasing lilt to his voice.

Alec rolls his eyes, but he can’t help the smile that spreads over his face. “Don’t call me that.”

Magnus hums and takes a seat next to Alec on the floor. “What should I call you then, Prince Lightwood?”

Alec huffs out a laugh, “Don't call me that either.”

“But you are,” Magnus argues. “You’re my prince.”

Alec’s heart does that stuttering thing it’s done for years now. It’s a cheesy line—a little over-the-top and a lot ridiculous—but he can’t deny that’s exactly why he loves it.

Magnus rests his head on Alec’s shoulder and tells him, “I think it’s time for you to get ready for tonight.”

He sighs, “I really don’t want to.”

“I know,” Magnus replies. “But I’ve prepared something that you’re going to look _gorgeous_ in. And on the bright side, you have to get _undressed_ before you get dressed, so…”

“Yeah?” Alec says, face lighting up. He’s standing up and tugging Magnus along with him before he even realizes he’s doing it, and then he straight up _sprints_ out of the ballroom, up the spiral stairway, into the north wing, and onto his four-poster bed.

The speed at which he pulls it off is pretty impressive, so maybe the lacrosse lessons served a purpose after all. 

*

Three hours later, Alec and Clary are sitting at the head table, commiserating over their impending crisis. He’s bored out of his mind, and he’s barely touched the lavish feast in front of him. Thankfully, he at least has a comrade-in-arms next to him.

For most of the evening, however, they sit in comfortable silence, both stewing over the shit they have to watch all night. They don’t even attempt to hide their poorly-concealed irritation.

“Doesn’t he have a _job_?” Clary asks, annoyed and abruptly breaking the silence.

Alec glances over to see his future wife looking out at the crowd, pure distaste written all over her face. He follows her gaze to see Simon, the court jester, doing… whatever the fuck jesters do. Alec’s become an expert in ignoring Simon, but yeah, he could see how someone would be annoyed with him if they hadn’t quite learned how to tune him out.

“He’s like white noise for me,” Alec tells her. “Don’t worry. With a bit of effort, you’ll learn how to just pretend he doesn’t exist.”

She doesn’t seem to be listening though, because she’s still glaring at Simon. Alec has already reached his Simon quota for the week so he goes back to doing his favorite thing to do at fancy dinners—admiring Magnus. Alec watches him as he moves about the room, and he’s itching to follow him. To place his hand on the small of Magnus’ back. To ask him to dance and probably be terrible at it. But he can’t do any of those things and… well, that’s the point of their whole predicament, isn’t it?

Alec’s eyes narrow as he sees the royal chaplain walk up to Magnus. And he’s actually _smiling,_ even though Raphael never smiles. Oh fuck, now he’s making _Magnus_ smile, and Alec feels like lighting something on fire.

“What’s his _deal_?” Alec grits out.

“I know, right?” Clary says immediately, although he’s pretty sure they’re talking about two separate people.

Alec watches as Raphael puts his _hand_ on _Magnus’ arm_ and just what the fuck?

“Okay, this is…” he says to no one in particular.

Clary sighs, “Alec, what are we going to _do_?”

Alec narrows his eyes again as he watches Raphael lean in closer. “You mean like, an accident?” he asks, gaze still tracking every single one of Raphael’s movements. “Jace could probably—I mean, he grabs drinks with the constable on Fridays at the pub, just a minor injury, if you’re thinking—”

“I meant about _us_ , Alec,” she sighs, exasperated. “I can’t spend the rest of my life watching the court jester hit on my husband’s sister. I _can’t_.”

Alec frowns when she doesn’t say anything else, “I can’t help but notice that you didn’t give a hard ‘no’ on the minor injury thing.”

“Alec,” she sighs again. But then her eyes narrow, too, as she watches Simon say something to make Isabelle’s face light up, and she whispers, “Fine, let’s put the accident thing on the list.”

Magnus looks up right then, like maybe he can feel Alec’s eyes on him, and he gives him a soft, secret smile. Alec visibly deflates, and he briefly— _briefly_ —feels like an asshole for considering inflicting pain on Magnus’ best friend, so he silently crosses it off the list. Each time Magnus makes eye contact throughout the night, he sends Alec a wink or a flirty grin, and it helps him relax.

It’s not until after dessert that he realizes the seat next to him is empty and that Izzy’s nowhere to be found and _dammit_ , if they stole the broom closet that Alec was just thinking about, he’s going to be pissed.

He meets Magnus’ eyes and subtly cocks his head in the direction of the hallway that leads to the kitchens, and Magnus nods imperceptibly. They find that Izzy _did_ steal the broom closet, those traitorous assholes, so they have to make do with a cramped dry storage room. They don’t do anything; they just sit there pressed up close while Magnus recounts some of the gossip and Alec listens intently and thinks, _How am I supposed to give this up?_

Impulsively, he stands and pulls Magnus with him, burrowing his face into the crook of his boyfriend's neck. He feels Magnus’ hands travel up and settle at the base of his neck.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” Alec sighs.

Magnus tenses, and his hands still.

Alec breathes Magnus in and knows he and Clary have to come up with something. He can’t survive on stolen moments and supply closets.

Magnus extricates himself from Alec’s grasp and takes a few steps backwards, though he can’t go far in the small closet. Alec gives him a quizzical look as his hands fall from Magnus’ waist and says, “Magnus?”

“I see,” he replies, tone formal.

“You see what?” Alec asks, still confused. He takes a step forward to pull him close again because they probably only have a few minutes left before he should head back out to the table, but Magnus takes another step back and bumps into one of the shelves behind him.

Magnus eyes him warily, “I’m not quite sure what to say here. I’ve never been … cast aside by a royal prince.”

“Cast aside?” Alec says, still so fucking lost.

Magnus watches him, posture stiff, and doesn’t say anything.

“What’s happening? I feel like I’m missing something,” Alec quietly asks, starting to feel slightly panicky. Magnus has never intentionally pulled away or given him that distant look.

“So what happens to me when you decide you ‘can’t do this,’ Alexander? Where is it you’ll be sending me?” he presses, and the hurt in his voice makes Alec’s heart sink.

But also makes him think, _What the hell are you even talking about_?

“Are you _delusional_?” Alec accuses him. “I’m in love with you, Magnus. I’d go to war for you—what am I talking about, I’d _start_ a war for you—so you can just shut that down right now.”

“Oh,” he says after a pause, looking faintly pleased.

Alec reels him in again and whispers, “I can’t lose you.”

Before Magnus can say anything, there’s a knock on the door. “I know you two are in there,” Izzy says. “Mom’s looking for you.”

Alec hesitantly pulls away and sighs.

“I’ll see you later tonight, I’m sure,” Magnus says, brushing his lips against Alec’s.

When they climb out of the closet, he stands next to Clary and sighs again. He feels defeated and resigned as he watches the love of his life walk away. Judging by her shuddering exhale, Clary’s doing the exact same.

*

The next morning, they hide in one of the gardens for a few hours. Magnus is reading him poetry, and Alec is watching him with hearts in his eyes, and good god could they be any more cliché. Alec is lying on one of the stone benches, head in Magnus’ lap, and it’s one of the best moments of his life.

Well, all of his moments with Magnus are the best.

They hear someone open and close the door leading to the garden, and Alec reluctantly sits up. When his mother rounds the corner, Magnus startles and stands, leaving the book on the bench before scrambling back towards the house.

“My apologies, your Majesty,” he says quietly as he passes her to head back to the house.

His mom nods her head at him, eyebrows furrowed, then glances back to Alec.

“What were you two talking about?” she asks Alec in a stilted voice.

“What? Nothing,” he answers.

“The Graymarks?” she asks, narrowing her eyes. “Is that where he’s going after the wedding?”

Alec’s eyes widen. “What? Is that something you heard?”

“Is that something _you_ heard?” she counters.

Alec’s breathing is coming in shallow bursts, and he wonders if this is a panic attack.

His mom doesn’t say anything else. Instead, she looks down at herself, hands smoothing over her dress, before glancing back towards the way Magnus hurriedly left. 

She gives Alec one final suspicious glare before turning on her heel and leaving him to look after her, gaping.

There are so many attractive men and women at Duke Graymark’s, and Magnus will forget all about him, and just… no fucking way.

Clary finds him shortly after, staring at the flowers in front of him, the poetry book still in his lap. 

“You okay?” she asks. 

He shrugs, “I don’t know. I hate this.” 

“Me too,” she sighs. They sit in silence until she ventures, “Is your mom okay?”

Alec gives her a quizzical look. 

“It’s just… she’s always been nice to me, and she’s definitely being weird.”

“Weird?” 

“Yeah, like, she had Magnus make _two_ wedding dresses. I thought it was, you know… a little cruel, making her son’s boyfriend make multiple dresses for his boyfriend’s almost-wife.”

Something bristles in Alec. His mom has always been decently pleasant to Magnus, though his relationship with the royal prince isn’t something anyone in the palace explicitly talks about. Magnus has always received a bit of preferential treatment, so yeah it’s a bit shitty of her if she’s suddenly turning on him. 

“And she—she,” Clary starts, and the pain is unmistakable. “I thought she liked me, but she made Izzy try on the other dress. It felt like maybe she was taunting me. Alec, god, I can’t do this.”

He puts his arm around her and she rests her head on his shoulder. 

“We’ll be okay, right?” she asks. “Izzy will stay with me? This won’t be too much for her?”

Alec freezes because fuck, that’s not even something he even remotely thought about, and he’s been reminded twice in five minutes that maybe he should have.

Instead of answering, he says, “Let’s go do something, take our mind off of this shitshow of an engagement.”

“Like what?” she sighs. “I just want to sit here and feel sorry for myself.”

“Simon’s learning how to joust,” Alec offers. “I can’t imagine it’ll go well for him.” He likes Simon enough, but there’s something fun about watching him in pain.

Her face lights up. “Oh my god, _yes_ , that’ll make me feel so much better.”

So they spend an hour trying to pass the time and watching Simon getting his ass kicked. 

*

Alec doesn’t get the paranoia out of his head for the rest of the afternoon. That night, he makes his way to Magnus’ quarters and cautiously steps inside to see him already in bed.

“Magnus?” he whispers.

Magnus shifts in the dark, “There you are.”

“Can I join you?” Alec asks, already making his way over.

“Always,” Magnus answers, sounding confused. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he lies. He climbs under the blankets and stretches out his arm so he can pull Magnus close.

They lie there in the dark but Alec’s racing thoughts and erratic heartbeat prevent him from falling into a comfortable sleep.

“Are you awake?” he asks after what seems like hours.

“Yes,” Magnus says, and he’s clearly lying.

But Alec doesn’t quite know how to ask what he needs to know.

“If—if I have to go through with this,” he starts, feeling more vulnerable than he’s ever felt in his life. “If I do, are you going to leave me?”

He’s not quite sure how to interpret the long silence until he feels Magnus rest his head on Alec’s shoulder and lay a hand on his chest.

“I’m here for as long as you want me,” Magnus says eventually. He pauses. “So you should probably stop with the revenge plots against my friends.”

“What?” Alec scoffs. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Hm,” is all Magnus says before drifting to sleep. Alec is finally able to follow him.

* 

On the wedding day, Alec stands in front of the mirror and stares at himself in the royal wedding attire, the attire his fucking _boyfriend_ had to make for him. He barely absorbs the flurry of action around him until someone barges into the room.

“I found it,” his mother says, waving around a piece of parchment. Her eyes find Alec’s.

“Found what?” he says, face blank.

“The official decree,” she explains. “It says Clarissa must marry _royalty_ , not a prince.”

She hands him the parchment for inspection, and he squints at it before meeting her eyes. It most certainly did not say those words this morning. Alec would know; he’s checked the royal decree seven hundred times.

He peers at it closer and there’s something clearly over some of the words, some kind of white glue, and he moves to scrape it with his fingernail before his mother hisses under breath, “Don’t do that.”

Alec looks at her curiously. 

“Look at this dress. Look at how I _look_ in this dress,” she tells him in a hushed voice. “Our clothier is not going _anywhere_ , do you hear me?”

Alec blinks and gives her a hesitant smile.

“We should probably move him closer to the west wing, don’t you think?” she continues. “We can’t have him thinking he’s not invaluable, can we?”

Alec is still a little speechless. “Mom, I don’t know what to say.”

“We can discuss it later. I need to find some royalty for Clarissa to marry. Perhaps your sister has something to wear?”

His mom heads for the door but pauses before she leaves, “The guests haven’t all arrived in case you need time to, ah, find the royal clothier to thank him for your impeccable suit.”

He grins and wastes no time following her advice.

*

It’s kind of like a fairytale but not really:

Alec _does_ find Magnus to lift him in the air and spin him around—but it’s only so he can press him against the wall and kiss him breathless.

Dragons _do_ need to be battled—but they come in the form of royal chaplains and court jesters.

There _is_ an extravagant wedding—but it’s not theirs (yet).

The story isn’t a fairytale but it still ends with happily ever after.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to my incredible beta [notquiteascrazy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notquiteascrazy/pseuds/notquiteascrazy). Thank you for everything! Once again, you were invaluable!


End file.
